


And Unto Your Houses

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, engagement fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz, Jemma, and Bobbi have always worked better as a team. In the lab, in the field, and when asking really important questions. </p><p>Or: Fitzsimmorse collects some blessings. </p><p> </p><p><b>Chapter One</b>: Jemma and Bobbi visit mama Fitz.</p><p>She moves to cup Bobbi’s face between her palms, turning it gently for inspection. “This must be the lovely Barbara Morse I’ve been hearing so much about. You really are a beauty, aren’t you? No one can say my son doesn’t have good taste.”<br/>Turning beet red under the watchful gaze, Bobbi smiles, slightly squished in between Miss Fitz’s hands. “It’s just Bobbi, ma’am.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Unto Your Houses

**Author's Note:**

> From the anon prompt "they meet each other parents and family for the first time after they started dating" that I might've gotten a little carried away with...

“Will you just knock already?”  
  
“When did we decide I was going to be the one to knock?”  
  
“Well you’ve been here before. Familiar territory—you knock.”  
  
“Oh this is bloody ridiculous…” Jemma lifts a fist to the old oak door, hesitates, and quickly pulls back, smoothing her sweaty palms out on her jeans.  
  
Bobbi turns a disbelieving little half-circle on the stoop, a scoff stuck in her throat. “We’ve been standing here for five minutes.”  
  
“Well you could remedy that at any time, you know.” Jemma shoots back, the acidity in her voice offset by the look of sheer terror that’s painted itself on her face.  
  
Bobbi takes a deep breath, trying to psych herself up, but freezes, chest and shoulders puffed up like a bird trying to intimidate a larger predator. After a few expectant seconds, she lets it all go in a rush, drooping. “I can’t.”  
  
“Well I can’t either,” Jemma laments. “Why is this so hard? Miss Fitz is such a nice woman, and she’s never done me any harm, but I’m still bloody terrified.”  
  
Bobbi takes Jemma’s hand in her own and gives it a quick squeeze. “Different circumstances, I guess.” She smooths her shirt down with her other hand, setting her shoulders back. “We’re a couple now and things are going to change. But look, Fitz already said she was okay with this. We don’t have anything to worry about here so let’s just- we do this together. We knock together.”  
  
“Right.” With a determined nod, Jemma raises their conjoined hands toward the door, hovering midway. She turns back to Bobbi with a sheepish grin. “Kiss for luck?”  
  
Laughing, Bobbi leans down to press her lips firmly against Jemma’s—for a little longer than strictly necessary, really—and pulls away with a soft smack, pushing their hands forward to wrap against the door before she can think twice about it.  
  
They both hold their breath as a shuffling comes from inside the small house, fingers squeezing tightly against each other’s as the deadbolt clicks and the door swings open to reveal the matriarch of the small Fitz family: apron-clad, beaming and ruddy-cheeked.  
  
“Oh girls, I’m so glad you could stop by,” Miss Fitz practically sings, swooping in to pull them both into a hug. Jemma sags against her, nerves calming as soon as the smell of freshly baked goods drifts to her through the door.  
  
Miss Fitz is the first to pull away from the tight embrace, holding the two women at arm’s length. “Jemma dear, it’s so good to see you again, it’s been far too long. And this-“ She moves to cup Bobbi’s face between her palms, turning it gently for inspection. “This must be the lovely Barbara Morse I’ve been hearing so much about. You really are a beauty, aren’t you? No one can say my son doesn’t have good taste.”  
  
Turning beet red under the watchful gaze, Bobbi smiles, slightly squished in between Miss Fitz’s hands. “It’s just Bobbi, ma’am.”  
  
“Then you call me just Eleanore, then, I don’t want none of this _ma’am_ business, not from family.” The woman smiles with a firm nod. She’s taller than Bobbi expected—only a few inches shorter than she is, broad in the chest and shoulders. She has thick, sturdy arms, the kind that make it difficult to break a chokehold, and a mop of brown hair pulled into a bun on the top of her head.  
  
Blushing herself, Jemma shifts, remembering the same treatment she received the first time she met Fitz’s mother. “Um, how much did Fitz tell you, exactly?”  
  
“Just that the two of you were on assignment nearby and that it was about time you visited.” She finally drops Bobbi’s face, putting on a scolding expression. “Well, perhaps that last bit was from me. But honestly Jemma, what has it been? Three years? I was so disappointed when you weren’t able to come with Leo last time he stopped by, I’ve missed you dreadfully. I know, I know, the two of you are very busy, saving the world and whatnot. But as for why you can’t visit your boyfriend’s dear mum every once in a blue moon, there really is no excuse.” She sweeps her hands over her apron, a hum in the back of her throat. “Absolutely none at all, supervillains and the like be damned.”  
  
“Nothing could keep us away from you for too long, Miss Fitz,” Jemma tries, batting her eyelashes.  
  
Eleanore barks a laugh, reaching around Jemma’s waist to pull her into her side, dwarfing the smaller woman. “Aye, that’s true. And I know you’re just trying to butter me up, but I can’t stay mad at that face. Alright, alright, inside with both of you before we catch our deaths out here.”  
  
She hurries them through the door, and Bobbi stops abruptly to take in the wall of pictures displayed in the front hall of the little house, mouth popping open into a small ‘o’. There are photos taken as recent as Fitz’s last visit, going back to his academy days and all the way since he was a toddler. Most of them are of him and his mother, but Jemma features in a fair number as well.  
  
“I’ve never actually seen a picture of him as a kid,” Bobbi realizes, a grin tugging at her lips. “God, look at those curls.”  
  
“Majestic, aren’t they?” Jemma barely stifles a giggle, even as Eleanore lands a playful swat on her shoulder.  
  
“Don’t be making fun of my boy, now,” she warns, “That’s the light of my life, right there.”  
  
“Ours too.” Bobbi doesn’t mean for the choked quality to seep into her voice, but she can’t keep it back, or tear her eyes away from the wall of photos. She isn’t halfway done with her first sweep of the photos when she notices; even next to his mother, Fitz looks so lonely in the earlier ones that Bobbi feels it heavy in her chest, and she blindly reaches out to grasp Jemma’s fingers again.  
  
“Oh, now I know you’re trying to butter me up,” Eleanore laughs, a little wetly, “Haven’t even gotten into the house yet and you’re already making me tear up.”  
  
“That one’s my favorite.” Jemma points to a photo near one of the sides. Fitz is eight years old, tiny and rake-thin, holding a certificate and grinning widely. It’s one of the only photos of him smiling.  
  
“He gave a speech at the local university about a gadget he’d invented,” Eleanore remembers, expression wistful. “They gave him a little certificate for it, junior professor or some such title. He was so proud. And I was so proud of him, talking in front of all those people. Didn’t think he had it in him.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“He didn’t talk till he was six, didn’t you know?”  
  
Finally tearing herself away from the photos, Bobbi shakes her head, all three of them moving toward the kitchen as a timer begins to chime.  
  
“Oh yeah, couldn’t get a peep out of him. Still hard to sometimes, but back then just,” she mimes zipping over her lips, “not a thing. Finally one day we were in the auto repair shop and the mechanic was trying to swindle me, saying he’d fixed a lot more on the car than he had, making up all sorts of rubbish. I didn’t know any better so I was going to pay for it—as hard as it was to scrape together any extra cash at that time—and then suddenly, little Leo just stands up and starts giving this man an earful, about how he’s mistaken about fixing the car, and describing exactly what he has and hasn’t done, chastising him about trying to trick people out of money they’d worked hard for.” She slips on a mitt and pulls a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven, sitting it on the stovetop to cool. “I was so shocked I didn’t say a word until we were back home with a car repaired for free.”  
  
“And after that he just started talking?” So engrossed in the story, Bobbi doesn’t even notice Jemma pushing her down onto the kitchen bench before wandering over toward the kettle.  
  
“Oh heavens no, I thought I dreamt it up to be honest. Finally I got him to start telling me about some of his projects, but even that took effort.” She sits next to Bobbi on the bench, scooping up her hand and patting it occasionally as she speaks. Jemma putters around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and tea bags and occasionally turning to grin fondly at the two of them. “He only talked about engineering until he was about ten, nothing else could hold his attention really, least of all other kids. He never got on with them much, not till this one came along.” She tilts her head to Jemma, who hums happily as she waits for the kettle by the stove. “Suddenly he couldn’t stop talking about her, thought she was the sharpest thing on two legs.”  
  
“I thought he hated me, honestly.” Jemma grins as she pours out the hot water, setting in their bags to steep. “He was so quiet and I was so … very much not.”  
  
“He was completely in awe,” Eleanore corrects, “still is.”  
  
“Well the feeling was, and is, mutual.” Jemma sits the drinks on the table, scooting in on Bobbi’s other side. She shifts to sit sideways so she can face the both of them, hands curled around her mug and hair curled around her face, looking more relaxed than Bobbi has seen her in ages.  
  
“You two have always been so sweet on each other,” Eleanor chuckles, “Even in the middle of arguing, they still have this look on their faces.”  
  
“I know the one.” Bobbi nods. “Doesn’t seem to ever go away when they look at each other.”  
  
“Oh I saw it coming from miles away, years before they got their act together. Now _you_ on the other hand,” she waggles her finger at Bobbi, who is momentarily taken aback, “you I did not predict.”  
  
A self-conscious smile finds its way to Bobbi’s face, and she picks up her mug to give her hands something to do.  
  
“Oh, don’t take it as a bad thing,” she’s quick to add, giving Bobbi’s cheek one small tap before getting up to slice the bread. “I’ve found that life is all of full of surprises with Leo, I’m not upset that he’s given me another one. He’s always been an unorthodox lad, I really should have seen it coming.”  
  
“If we’re being honest, I didn’t see it coming either,” Bobbi admits, a little flustered but feeling calmer. There’s something about the house that makes her feel already at home, even though it’s the first time she’s step foot in it, and she would place a generous bet that it was Eleanore Fitz herself.  
  
Jemma briefly lets her head rest on Bobbi’s shoulder, curling closer to her over the steam from her mug. “Maybe _you_ didn’t. Fitz and I had plans. Extensive ones. A whole battle strategy, if you will.”  
  
“’How to woo one Bobbi Morse’?” Eleanore laughs.  
  
“Exactly. It took her weeks to catch on. _Weeks_.”  
  
“Well, the two of you have never been great at communication.”  
  
Jemma splutters for a moment, and then stops, mouth slightly agape. “Alright, I suppose that’s fair. But I really have to say this one was on her.”  
  
“I’ll concede that,” Bobbi agrees, hands out, “I was pretty slow on the uptake.”  
  
“Well you all make each other very happy, that’s all I care about.” Eleanore lays thick slices of bread onto small china plates, the warm smell hanging heavy in the air.  
  
“Well that’s … actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” Jemma broaches, shooting Bobbi a quick look. Bobbi inspects her face, and then nods.  
  
“Ah, not just a good will visit then. I figured you weren’t just stopping in, that’s why I made my special banana nut bread.”  
  
“Oh, banana nut?” Jemma is off track and reaching for it before Eleanore has even made it back to the table, and Bobbi can’t help her laugh (she isn’t laughing once she rips off a piece and pops it into her mouth, and she wouldn’t deny that her eyes water just a bit).  
  
“Okay.” The older woman braces herself, fixing the two of them with a hard stare. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”  
  
They both just stare back at her, cheeks stuffed with bread.  
  
Eleanore rolls her eyes. “At least let me know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.”  
  
Jemma covers her mouth with one hand, voice muffled through the food. “A good thing, hopefully.”  
  
“Alright, finish your bread and then we can talk.”  
  
They finish scarfing down their first slices and then bring the seconds into the family room, Jemma and Bobbi squeezed onto the loveseat and Eleanore facing them on the chair. Jemma procrastinates by taking delicate nibbles of her bread, and Bobbi rubs her mug back and forth between her hands.  
  
“You said it was a good thing, now, why do you two look like you’re facing the grave?” Eleanore tuts and briefly stands to spread a blanket over their laps, tucking them in gently before curling back into the chair.  
  
“We …” Bobbi looks at Jemma, who nods enthusiastically. “We want your blessing.”  
  
“Blessing?” She fixes them with a knowing look. “What’s this about, girls?”  
  
“We want to get married,” Jemma breathes out in a rush, a bit of desperation lacing her tone. “But we know our situation isn’t exactly usual and we wanted- we need to know you approve. That you’re okay with this.” She gestures between her and Bobbi, a line between her brows. “With us. You’re so important to all of us and we just had to make sure.”  
  
Eleanore is quiet for a long moment, and Bobbi is struck with the horrible feeling that she’ll say no. That she was only okay with their relationship when she thought it was a casual thing, or hoped that it would be a phase. That she only approved of Fitz marrying Jemma, but not the both of them.  
  
Sitting down her tea, Eleanore clears her throat, not quite looking at them as she speaks. “I’ve always been so proud of you, Jemma,” she starts, voice tight, “You’ve always been a brilliant little thing, and so good to my Leo. When he told me the two of you were official I- well I was just over the moon. I felt like I’d waited for so long, and I knew how happy the two of you would make each other.  
  
“And then-“ She nods towards Bobbi, who has a cold pit in her stomach. “he started telling me about you. How impressive you were, how smart and strong. How much he adored you. And then, eventually, that you were dating as well. And I just thought,” she takes a breath, shaking her head, “how absolutely lucky my son is, to have two amazing women who love him so much. He was such a lonely boy, if only I could’ve seen- I would’ve given anything to see him as happy as he is now. Even just two years ago, I never thought …” She pushes her lips together, and then laughs as a tear spills down her cheek. Bobbi feels like she might burst, fondness for this whole family pushing out of her in waves.  
  
“Would it … I would be your mother-in-law, then? To the both of you?”  
  
“If you’ll have us.” Jemma sounds just as choked up, and Bobbi leans into her, to comfort herself just as much.  
  
“I couldn’t think of anything better,” Eleanore admits, briefly raising a hand to her mouth, blinking harshly.  
  
Jemma lets out a bubbling laugh and rushes forward, pulling the older woman into a hug as she stands to meet her. Bobbi watches as Eleanore rocks her softly, Jemma’s feet coming off the ground just a bit, both women hiding their tears in the other’s neck. After a few moments Eleanore holds out and arm, beckoning to Bobbi.  
  
“Come on now, get in here, love.”  
  
Shuffling the blanket aside, Bobbi joins them in their embrace, letting out a soft whoosh of air as Eleanore tightens her hold. Bobbi grins into her hair. “Thank you.”  
  
“You just doubled the size of this family, I think I should be thanking you.”  
  
Jemma gives a short noise somewhere between a hum and a whine and pushes closer.  
  
After a few minutes Eleanore shifts back, wiping her eyes on the back of her wrist with a low chuckle. “Well that’s enough of that isn’t it? What do you girls say we bake some cookies to celebrate? I have ingredients for snickerdoodle.”  
  
“We actually shouldn’t stay too much longer,” Bobbi says, honestly regretful. “Our ride is coming in less than an hour.”  
  
“Bobbi,” Jemma admonishes, looking completely aghast, “Snickerdoodle.”  
  
“Your ride can join us when they get here,” Eleanore tuts, already pulling Jemma to the kitchen, who isn’t putting up any sort of fight.  
  
Alone in the family room, Bobbi takes a moment to stop and breathe. The house is warm and worn-in, with evidence of life everywhere she looks. Rumpled blankets, dog-eared books, little half-finished tech experiments that Fitz has left lying around and never got back to. Trophies carefully stored on shelves next to photos and drawings, candles that flicker and cast shapes onto the old floral wallpaper.  
  
Bobbi likes it here. And she loves this woman, Fitz’s mum. Her soon to be mother-in-law.  
  
With a grin, Bobbi follows the sound of chattering voices into the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> The actual dynamics of the marriage will be explained in the next chapter, but for now just enjoy some mama Fitz fluff? And wee little non-verbal Fitz cause no one can stop me 
> 
> Still taking prompts on my tumblr [buckysbears](buckysbears.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Up next: Fitz and Bobbi visit the Simmons'.


End file.
